


Tomorrows

by Cybra



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-20
Updated: 2017-07-20
Packaged: 2018-12-04 11:23:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11554173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cybra/pseuds/Cybra
Summary: Soul always figured he had time to do everything: study for exams, take out the garbage, practice the piano, and work up the nerve to ask Kid out. However, once Kid ascends, he thinks that he's run out of time for that last one.





	Tomorrows

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** Inspired by Creepy Army Painter’s Soul/Kid fanart on Deviantart.
> 
> **Disclaimer:** _Soul Eater_ belongs to Atsushi Ohkubo.

There had always been “tomorrow”: tomorrow he’d study for the exam, tomorrow he’d take the trash out, tomorrow he’d steal a few minutes to go play the piano…

…tomorrow he’d ask Kid out.

It made sense to take his time with that last one in particular.  They were both young.  True, Kid was the heir to death itself, but the young reaper taking over had always seemed years, even decades, away.  Plenty of time to work up the nerve to ask him out. 

Then the kishin got loose…

_‘I’ll ask him out once we have a plan.’_

…and Kid was captured…

_‘Once we get him back, I’m taking him out to dinner.’_

…but at least Kid was rescued…

_‘Dude’s had it rough; I’ll give him a little space first.’_

…and then Maka found Asura on the moon…

_‘Once we’ve finished this guy off, definitely asking for that date.’_

…and that’s when he ran out of tomorrows.

They’d barely known each other a year—a good chunk of it apart due to Kid being trapped in the Book—and those years and years Soul had expected to have went up in a blaze of godly power as Kid’s three Lines became Rings, accepting the metaphorical crown he’d been schooled and bred for.  If Soul asked him out now, he wouldn’t be asking _Kid,_ he’d be asking Death himself.

Aside from the somewhat rocky and downright silly start to the reaper’s reign (this new Death had been so nervous that his old bad habit had reared its ugly head and he’d insisted on not moving on with the ceremony until the mask had been put on perfectly), Death the Kid’s transition to the position of Grim Reaper had gone relatively smoothly.  His neurotic tendencies had quieted significantly now that his need to create Order was satisfied by managing the order of the world.  He still had his moments—Soul had snorted at Kid profusely apologizing for his “sloppy appearance” (in truth a small ink smudge on one cuff that nobody would’ve even noticed if he hadn’t pointed it out) to the ambassador from South Korea—but the nervous breakdowns at asymmetry had stopped at last…even if Kid had visibly twitched at the “sculpture” representing his ascent to full godhood when the “modern artist” had presented it to him.  (In all fairness, the Death Scythes had unanimously decided that that thing was too hideous to keep around even for politeness’s sake, and the piece of “art” was donated to the Museum of Modern Art in New York: far, far away from Death City to spare both their new Meister’s sanity and everybody’s sense of good taste.)

Since his ascension, Kid had taken the pieces of their broken world in his hands and started putting them back together along with adding new pieces to create his vision of a more perfect world.  That alone would’ve kept him busy, but there were those in both the Mortal and Witches’ Realms that weren’t particularly happy with the new status quo Kid strove to create, often times expressing their displeasure violently.

With all that going on, it came as no surprise that Kid wasn’t there on the basketball court with the rest of them:  If Kid wasn’t in the Death Room, he was going out on reaps too dangerous for ordinary Meisters or juggling so many diplomatic balls in the air that a professional juggler would’ve given him a standing ovation.  At first Liz and Patty had acted as his self-appointed secretaries-slash-guard dogs to help him manage the flood of people demanding his attention, but Marie had taken over most of those self-set duties when Kid had flatly denied her request to stay in the field the moment it became obvious that the Death Scythe hadn’t just been putting on a little weight.  That meant the sisters could go back to regularly attending classes and having some downtime like now.

Despite actually being at the court, Soul had yet to join the others for a game.  Instead he sat on a bench, leaning back and staring at the blue sky as he listened to the sounds of Black*Star and Maka arguing, the former having dragged the latter onto the court to replace her Weapon partner.  He could hear Patty laughing as Tsubaki tried to calm the feuding pair down.

He blinked when Liz suddenly leaned into his view.  “Hey.”

“Hey yourself.  Mind if I sit down?  You look like you’re saving a spot.”

Soul turned his head to where Kid had sat next to him not too long ago.  He could see a ghost of Kid sitting there, dressed in casual clothes and Lines still where they should’ve been.  (He was never going to get used to those Rings.)  Maka hadn’t even put her book down in the empty spot beside him.  “It’s a free country.”

Liz walked around the bench to sit next to him.

“This isn’t usually your scene.  Thinking about playing?”

“And ruin an authentic Death the Kid mani-pedi before I absolutely have to?  Are you crazy?”

Soul blinked at her, turning his focus away from the argument in progress.  “I thought Kid would be too busy to do stuff like that.”

“He’s learning to multi-task like a pro,” Liz said with clear pride, like a big sister reveling in her little sibling’s accomplishments. “That and he claims he wants practice modulating his strength for more ‘delicate’ stuff.”

The scythe grimaced as he remembered visiting Liz in the hospital, her ribs broken by the force of a newly-ascended death god’s hug.  It had taken the efforts of both sisters plus Marie to coax Kid back into letting anyone within arm’s reach of him, the young god terrified at the knowledge that he no longer knew his own strength and could crush his human friends and family without a thought.

“Pretty obvious it’s an excuse for some normal if you ask me,” she continued, ignoring his expression and the memories likely accompanying it.

“Seriously?”

“Oh yeah.  You should’ve seen the shade of purple the British Prime Minister turned as she tried not to explode at Kid talking policy with her while doing my fingernails.”  The pistol closed her eyes, smirking, as she mimicked Kid’s voice.  “‘Miss Marie told you that I was busy with other matters, but you insisted that it was an emergency when it clearly isn’t.  Therefore, I’ll give you precisely the amount of attention you deserve; no more, no less.’”  She gave a snort before her smile turned sadly bittersweet.  “His dad would’ve been so proud.”

In that moment, the younger Weapon was struck by the fact that Kid was doing all this while mourning for his father…and that Liz and Patty had lost a father as well.  He looked down at the ground for a moment, ashamed.  Here they were continuing on with _that_ strapped to their ankles while Soul was sulking over how he’d missed out on his chance for a date?

“I meant if he was trying to do something normal,” he said awkwardly.

She gave a chuckle.  “You wouldn’t know it, but he’s probably watching us right now.”

He shot her a baffled look.

She held up one perfectly-manicured finger.  “Haven’t you noticed whenever it’s your turn in the Death Room that our dear demented Meister stands to the _left_ in front of the mirror, not perfectly centered, even if he’s the only one watching it?  He’s gotten better about that kind of thing but he’s not that relaxed yet.”

Soul blinked.  “Now that you mention it, he _does_ do that.”

“Yeah, there’s a reason for that:  He has a little image there that allows him to watch you guys when you’re not in the Death Room.  Nothing creepy, but just whenever you guys are in class or playing basketball or whatever.  Things he would’ve been there for if things hadn’t changed so fast.  He stands to the left to block anyone else from seeing it and he’ll dismiss it if he has to focus all his attention on whatever’s in the rest of the mirror or someone else is going to be looking into the mirror with him.  It’s kind of like that picture-in-picture thing from a few years back: no sound but he can still watch.”  She looked out over the failure of a basketball game which was looking more and more like it was going to become a brawl.  “It wouldn’t surprise me if he was watching all this going on.”

Soul’s gaze flitted to each of the various windows overlooking the court, any one of those reflective surfaces potentially being a viewpoint for the mirror magic Kid and his father before him used.

“He won’t say it, but I know he wants to just drop everything sometimes and spend some time with everybody since…well…one day he’s going to turn around and we’ll all be old, gray, and dying while he’s just the same as he always was.”  She shook her head.  “Lord Death really didn’t do him any favors by raising him like a human…and Patty and me living with him kinda made it worse, I guess.  Two years ago, he was totally committed to being the next death god, but now…now he just wants to be a kid with a small k like the rest of us for a little longer.”

“…Why are you telling me this?” Soul asked softly.

“Because I may not be a Death Scythe, but I’ve resonated enough with Kid’s soul to recognize someone testing the waters by brushing their wavelength against his,” Liz said, giving him a wry smirk. “Kid’s clueless, but Patty and I aren’t.”

Soul imagined the color his face was turning would’ve put poppies to shame.

“Ask him out…or at least come up with some excuse to just hang out away from work for an hour or two,” she requested with quiet desperation. “Give him some normal, just for a little while.”

“…I’ll ask him tomorrow.”

She sighed.  “Just make sure you don’t miss ‘tomorrow’.”  As he stared in bewilderment, wondering if she’d somehow read his earlier thoughts, she called to her sister, “Yo, Patty!  Let’s head back before Miss Marie tries to give Kid a concussion for babying her again!”

Patty cackled, skipping along as the pair left with Soul watching them the entire time.

* * *

 

Two days later Soul showed up in the Death Room to relieve Marie, surprised to see no one there.  Just before he could start to wonder if he should call someone to get an update, he heard footsteps on the path behind him.  He turned and bit the inside of his cheek at the sight of Marie glowering at their young Lord as they carried items obviously taken from the DWMA’s library.  The woman’s walk was starting to become a full-on waddle that slowed her down…which was probably what saved their boss from getting a face full of her irritated fist.  He’d obviously refused to let her carry more than the three small books she held while he himself was balancing a rather impressively-sized stack, most of which were rather thick.

“I’ve got it from here,” Soul told the pregnant Weapon, taking her light burden and not envying Stein for what he would come home to in the least.

She huffed.  “Just make sure he eats something.”

“I don’t need to eat anymore,” Kid reminded her as he started organizing his research materials at the Japanese-style table his father had favored.

“You could at least use it to take a break!” she snapped waspishly. “It makes some of us feel a little better about eating so much if we’re not eating alone!”

Soul warily backed up a few steps.  Apparently the mood swings were especially bad today.  No, he did not envy Stein one little bit.

“Have a good afternoon, Miss Marie,” Kid told her somewhat distractedly, quirking his lips with amusement. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Marie turned on a heel and flounced out…or at least tried to.  The effect was ruined by her half-waddling gait.

Soul watched her go.  “What’d you do to set her off?”

“I didn’t wake her up when she fell asleep on the job,” Kid answered, opening one of his books and setting it to one side. “She’d obviously had a rough night when she came in and spent all day trying not to let on that she was feeling sick—as if I wouldn’t notice her lunch was nothing but saltines, rice cakes, and ginger ale—so I let her take a nap.  She’s more upset with herself than me.”  He rolled his eyes.  “‘A Death Scythe’s duty is to stand by Lord Death’s side at all times and be prepared to fight at any moment.’  I appreciate her fervor, but it’s ridiculous when she can’t even fully transform for another four months.”

The currently-present Death Scythe sat down on one of the cushions, getting comfortable as he propped up an arm on his knee.  In the background, the mirror showed an empty snowfield, the faint sounds of wind sighing through the empty landscape providing a calming, nonintrusive soundtrack as Kid focused on his task, writing notes with one hand as he turned the pages of the open book with another.

“Homework?” Soul teased lightly.

“Yes,” Kid said without irony. “The Grand Witch and I are having another meeting tomorrow morning at seven.”  He shuddered at the number but made no explosive commentary.  “The recent conflicts in Tunisia have both of us pouring through our records to try and find where the trigger was to see if there’s a way to calm things down.  We’ll be comparing notes and trying to sort out what’s useful and what’s each side just pointing fingers so we know how to proceed.  Neither the DWMA nor the Witches have their hands clean in this.  Father had to make quite a few compromises he wouldn’t have had to make if he’d been free to deal with things personally, but…some of them I think did more harm than good.”

The faint glow of Kid’s skin that had persisted since his ascension didn’t dim, but for one eye-blink the familiar twin irises had changed to the skull shapes they now took on whenever Kid was feeling intense emotion.  Despite the suspicions he’d held of his father’s motives near the end, Kid had thought the world of the former Grim Reaper.  Dealing with the results of his father’s mistakes and flaws must have been a harsh reminder that his father had ultimately been less than the perfect being Kid had always seen him as.

“Anything I can do?”

“If you can start flipping through some of these and marking anything that might be relevant, it’ll save me some time hunting.  With a little luck, I should be finished with this by sunup.”

“Research isn’t really my thing,” Soul pointed out, “but I think I can do that much at least.”

He picked up the first of the leather volumes, the musty scent of the pages and their yellowed appearance contrasting sharply with the near-new leather cover from a recent rebinding.  He saw a stack of sticky page markers of various colors and went to work skimming through the material, periodically marking a page.

After about thirty minutes of this, Kid glanced up as Soul set down a book with about ten different markers of four separate colors.  “Trying to make a rainbow?”

“Pink’s a maybe red flag; yellow I wasn’t sure; green seemed like a good thing that happened while still being relevant.”

The reaper nodded his head approvingly before tilting it curiously to one side.  “And the blue?”

“Blue’s for stuff to look at later when you take a moment to breathe,” the scythe said. “Not relevant to the Tunisia thing, but some stuff you might find helpful for other stuff.”

Which was true but not the _whole_ truth:  They were moments when the former Lord Death had struggled with something but overcome it, treating all parties fairly.  He’d figured Kid could use a few of those instances to remind him that his father’s proverbial feet hadn’t been made of clay after all.

“I’ll have to make time for those then.  Thank you, Soul,” Kid said with a smile, irises once again momentarily flicking to those strange-yet-not-entirely-unnerving skulls.

Hearing him say that reminded Soul of his conversation with Liz.  He took a deep breath…

…and choked as all those doubts came rushing back to him.  What was he thinking?  Asking out an immortal _god_ who didn’t even need to sleep or eat?  What could he possibly offer Kid now?  Now that he thought about it, what could he have offered Kid even _before_ the other’s ascension?

“Soul?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you all right?  Your wavelength is agitated.”

For a fleeting moment, Soul had the near-overwhelming urge to snap at Kid to stop peeking at his soul but suppressed it at the last moment.  Kid couldn’t help it:  Soul Perception was his primary sense.  It’d be like being angry at someone for pointing out the colors of your clothes didn’t match when you yourself were colorblind.

_‘Calm down and think about it.  I do have something he might want: normal.  He needs some normal,’_ the albino mutely coached himself.

“I was wondering if you might be able to take a little time to train with me?” Soul asked, switching gears at the last second.  (He cursed himself for chickening out but at least training was something normal for DWMA students and agents.) “I need a lot of practice in fighting without a Meister just in case something disrupts me and Maka’s resonance again or you’re using someone else or something.  I didn’t ask Maka because I didn’t want her getting the wrong idea and hitting me with another one of her stupid books.  I’d ask Black*Star, but…”  His voice trailed off as his mind drew a blank on an excuse.

Fortunately, Kid saved him without realizing it: “But Black*Star doesn’t understand the idea of moderation and would likely set both of you up for failure and frustration.”  His lips once again curled with pleasure, his eyes flickering to show just how much the request pleased the young god.  “I’ll find time for that, too.  Thank you for asking me.”

Soul blew out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, smiling back.

Okay, so it wasn’t a date, but it _was_ at least a step forward and proved that Kid wasn’t averse to the idea of spending an hour or two away from being a god.

Besides, there was always tomorrow.


End file.
